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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28952070">The Noble and Brave House of Black</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/carter_rivers14/pseuds/carter_rivers14'>carter_rivers14</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marauders Era Hogwarts - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence - Post-Hogwarts, Dumbledore's child army, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, M/M, Original Character - Freeform, jily, literally forget canon pls, regulus is the good guy, snape slander, wolfstar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:22:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,932</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28952070</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/carter_rivers14/pseuds/carter_rivers14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Immediately following their graduation from Hogwarts the Marauders and Co. are forced into a war where children have no business dying for the whims of ancient beliefs. They are children above all else, children who still hold childish grudges. Regulus Black is trying to put some of those grudges to rest, so he can finally have some.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Potter/Lily Evans, Marlene McKinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Regulus Black/Original Character(s), Sirius Black/Remus Lupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Doing the Right Thing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nothing is sacred in a life where someone else tells you what to do. Yet the constant lul of directionless existence becomes almost comforting. Almost. It is easy to play along, true projectable apathy is a gift few possess. My brother has never possessed that gift. He has, notably, almost everything else. His charm, his wit, his looks, his talent, and above all else, his friends. Who have become more family to him than I fear I shall ever be. Our ties of blood and marrow have long been severed. I intend to, should it be the last thing I do, mend those broken synapses.</p><p>My name is Regulus Arcturus Black. I am telling my story so that it can be believed not glorified or immortalized. The last thing I could ever wish for is immortality, it is after all where my story begins. One man’s hunt for immortality, his crusade for life. In this pursuit, he became not a man, but a monster. His crusade for life, becoming a tirade of death.</p><p>In less dramatics, which is almost impossible for the Black family, my story truly begins during my last year at Hogwarts. The world was beginning to crumble and I was stuck in Potions.</p>
<hr/><p>“Now please if you will the lacewing flies Mr. Black.” Professor Slughorn extended his hand to Regulus. Eager to have this day over Regulus complied with the professor. It was not that Regulus did not like potions, he was a member of the Slug Club and was routinely paraded around by the professor for being well versed at the craft. Now that both Lily Evans and Severus Snape had left he was Slughorns “top man” whenever there was a need for an assistant.</p><p>“Thank you Mr. Black; now if you will all turn to page 235 and follow along…”. A sharp knock came to the door and Headmaster Dumbeldore entered. For all his grandeur he was a very simple man and appeared even more so in the dimly lit potions classroom.</p><p>“Ah Horace, my apologies for the intrusion but I need to collect Regulus for a while. He shall not be coming back for the duration of the lesson.” There was a specific weight to his voice that only those who had heard it before would know about. Loss, the weight of many that falls heavily on every shoulder it touches. Regulus had felt this weight before; his fourth year, Sirius’s fifth. Their mother had died of an unexpected heart attack just after Christmas. He remembered not much from that conversation, just the stormy look on his brother’s face and his insistence that he would not attend their mother's funeral. After the conversation is what he remembered. In his trec down to the kitchens he heard the words so clearly being sung with glee.</p><p>“Ding Dong the Wicked Witch is Dead!” Cried one James Potter as he led his band of brothers, including Regulus’s own brother, back to their common room. If Regulus had ever felt a time to harm someone it was that moment. But, like the dignified member of the House of Black he was, he carried on. He was pulled from this memory by the voice of the headmaster.</p><p>“Regulus, please come with me. Bring your things.” As he made his way across the room he was met with eyes of sympathy and some of what he thought might be satisfaction. Of course they would want him to suffer. Hadn’t he done it to them? The lone muggleborn in the corridor and his friends with wands at the ready. Hadn’t he watched as they cursed and hexed children who couldn’t even conjure a shield charm if they wanted to? Maybe he deserved their stares, both pity, and satisfaction. The walk from the dungeons to the headmaster's office was thankfully quiet. As they approached the staircase he recognized a man standing outside the eagle statue. The Black family solicitor, this could only mean one thing. Regulus let out a shaky breath. While this possibility had crossed his mind, the confirmation stood before him with the Black Family Chest. Only one set of events would lead for this box and this man to be sat across from him in the headmaster's office. Orion Black was dead. Regulus was now the heir, sole heir, of the House of Black. The headmaster and the solicitor spoke at length of funeral arrangements, time away from classes, and transportation. None of this mattered to Regulus.</p><p>“How?” Regulus asked. His voice cracking as he pitched his tone up to show he was asking a question.</p><p>“I really do not think it is fit for hearing Master Black. It is not…” The solicitor was cut off as Regulus asked again, this time without a waver in his voice.</p><p>“He died in a ministry raid. He turned his wand on himself before they could reach his study. His death triggered a series of defensive spells from the house preventing the ministry from entering.” The solicitor did not meet Regulus’s eyes, but the headmaster did. He looked upon Regulus with both pity and confusion. Was it confusion? There was something deeper there that unsettled Regulus. It was all too much like his father to value what was in that house over his own life. Regulus did not doubt the chain of events. Everyone in the family knew of the powers that the very walls of the House of Black possessed.</p><p>“Does Sirius know?” He looked to the headmaster for this question. The solicitor followed what had been in his father’s will to the T. Sirius was nowhere to be found in that will.</p><p>“He does. He wishes to speak to you when shall I say the dust has settled. Now Regulus I understand if you wish to return to your home and prepare for the funeral. But I would like a few words with you before you go. It is of a Prefect matter not a legal one so there is no need for you to remain Mr. Hans.” With a small wave, the door to the headmaster's study opened. The solicitor gave a small bow to Regulus and a nod to the headmaster before departing. A soft click echoed behind him in the silence.</p><p>“Is there something wrong with my Prefect duties headmaster? I can always talk to Samuel and Ren if there is an issue.” Regulus had no doubts about his abilities to do his job. Especially now that the Headboy and Girl were back to even positions of Ravenclaw and Slytherin.</p><p>“No my dear boy, I was merely passing along a compliment from Professor Sprout who commended you on your level-headedness in the greenhouses the other day. Your actions were as I heard it, inspiring.” Regulus cursed himself in his mind for what had happened.</p>
<hr/><p>He wasn’t even supposed to be in NEWT level herbology but Slughorn had recommended it as a good background for Regulus if he chose to pursue a Potion Master's license. He had been in the greenhouses for lessons when he spotted them. Barty Crouch Jr. and Avery glaring at the greenhouses muttering over a bit of parchment. To anyone else, this would seem harmless but to Regulus, he knew this meant trouble. He looked around at the students filing into the class and tried to pick out their target. As he scanned the room down next to him sat the one they were planning to hex. Nathaniel Creevey was the youngest and the shortest member of the NEWT Herbology class. He also had a gift for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. This, Regulus knew, was not the actual case. Barty would seek out Nathaniel because his mother worked for the Daily Prophet, she was responsible for the memorial pieces for any muggles who had died in the war. Regulus knew that she was probably just a witch trying to do her job and those were the stories given to her. But Barty didn’t care. Nathaniel's mother’s words in those articles were enough to convince Barty that all Creevey's were to be hated. Regulus dared one last look at the pair and saw Avery raise his wand. Not knowing what spell was about to be thrown, Regulus drew a shield charm as wide as he could over himself, Nathaniel, and some girl to his left. It was a good thing as well. Around him, glass shattered as a spell plunged through the greenhouse’s glass walls. An instant chill of the October wind flooded the carefully controlled greenhouse. Students screamed as glass flew both at and into them. They grabbed their faces and skulls as the thick glass made contact. All in an instant greenhouse 3 was a wreck. Delicate plants that lined the walls began to wilt from the cold and the ringing in Regulus’s ears began to fade as he heard Professor Sprout shouting.</p><p>“Please anyone who is hurt go to the Hospital Wing immediately. Clare escort those who cannot go alone. Regulus, see if you can find who did this but be careful I’ll be right behind you. I have to help this student right now.” The student she was holding had clearly felt the brunt of the force, a large shard of glass stuck out of her shoulder and others littered the back of her head. Professor Sprout pointed at the field beyond the greenhouse where Barty and Avery once stood. And still stood as Regulus ran over to them as they doubled over in laughter as if they had thrown a water balloon and not a bomb.</p><p>“What the fuck!” Regulus yelled as they continued to roll on the ground. Avery sat straight up but Barty remained on the ground.</p><p>“Oh get the stick out your arse. You would have been fine even if you hadn’t protected that filthy blood traitor.” Avery was on his feet now. He was a deal taller than Regulus but much slower. “We slipped you the note at breakfast, you would have been fine if you’d read the fuckin’ note.” Avery huffed as he dug inside Regulus’s pocket. Regulus pulled back and got in his face.</p><p>“What fucking note Avery, the only reason I’m not half sliced with glass right now was because I saw you too morons.” Regulus knew there was no note in his pockets, he always knew when something was different no matter how small.</p><p>“Barty, didn’t you put the note in Regulus’s pocket this morning?” Avery turned to Barty who was still lounging on the ground.</p><p>“‘Course I did, he was to my left and I slipped it in his pocket. Stop accusing me you oaf.” Barty snapped and gave a slight lunge towards Avery. Who was now very red in the face.</p><p>“You fucking idiot, Regulus was to your right this morning. You gave some random Slytherin the note. How will the Dark Lord ever trust you if you can’t even deliver a note properly.” This got Barty on his feet.</p><p>“Don’t talk to me about the Dark Lord you invalid. You have no idea how far my loyalty runs to him.” Barty and Avery were eye to eye when Regulus heard footsteps behind them. Regulus decided to end this. He raised his wand to the pair and shouted.</p><p>“Over here, Professor Sprout!” Both Avery and Barty looked at him in shock. To which he only hissed a reply. “Next time, don’t try to murder me in the middle of class, you nitwits.” Barty lunged but before he could get his hands to Regulus Professor Sprout had seen him.</p><p>“Avery, Crouch, over here now.” Professor Sprout called from behind Regulus. The pair walked in her direction shooting daggers at Regulus as they passed. “The headmaster and Professor Slughorn should be here in a moment. Regulus if you wouldn’t mind please helping Mr. Creevey and Ms. Finn with some of the plants.” Regulus carried on to the greenhouses where Nathaniel and now he knew a girl with the last name Finn were clearing out the plants to the next greenhouse. Nathaniel stopped when he saw Regulus approach.</p><p>“Thank you, Regulus. I don’t know how you did it but whatever it is I’m glad.” Nathaniel stuck out a bony hand to Regulus. Who hesitated to take it. Is this who he was? Protecting people and receiving thanks for it? No, he concluded. Nathaniel would have been shielded even if Regulus decided to protect himself. Regulus shook the boy's hand with slight hesitation.</p><p>“No problem.” Regulus cleared his throat. “Where are we bringing the plants?” Regulus asked as he grabbed a potted Wiggentree.</p><p>“Oh just over to greenhouse 2. Not all of the plants survived but hopefully, the rest will adjust in there.” Nathaniel picked up the root he was carrying and continued on. Regulus helped move a few more plants before the bells tolled for the end of the block. He washed his hands and went to collect his books. Reflecting on what had just happened.</p>
<hr/><p>“Regulus?” The headmaster's voice once again brought him back.</p><p>“Sorry headmaster just lost for a moment. I just did what was right.” Regulus met the old man’s eyes and was startled to find a glimmer of joy in them. Not mixing or double meaning. These were eyes of joy.</p><p>“Well Regulus, if you find yourself wanting to simply “do what is right” again. Don’t hesitate to stop by." With that, the soft click of the door sounded again and Regulus began to leave. Before he closed the door he heard the headmaster speak once again. “And Regulus, I am sorry for your loss.” The headmaster gave Regulus a small nod, which Regulus without thinking returned. Shaken by the news of his father’s death and the sudden understanding he had come to with the headmaster Regulus left for his dorm to grab his things before he was to return home.</p><p>One detail remained in his mind as he walked down to the Slytherin dorms. One little lie in his memory that he wished to forget. A lie that could hurt no one but himself.</p><p>He made the shield bigger on purpose.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Homecoming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Following the death of his father, Regulus returns home with mixed feelings about his family and the world at large.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Regulus returned home that evening to quiet at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. There was no Sirius to slam doors or Walburga to shriek. Correction, there was a Walburga to shriek, she was just in portrait form. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My son, my only son. You’ve come home. Please have them put your father with me.” Portrait Walburga wailed from her place in the entranceway. Regulus knew that his father did not wish to have a portrait. He had read the will some years ago when Sirius had been struck from it. He knew his father's seemingly simple wishes compared to his mother. Walburga demanded nothing less than a week-long mourning period where no one was to think about anything but her until her portrait was ready to be hung. Orion wished simply to be buried in the Black family tomb with the rest of the more modest family. Nonetheless, Regulus knew that this would be a time of social calls and small chatter. Two of Regulus’s least favorite things. No amount of gold could ever convince him to enjoy small talk. As he came past the threshold he was greeted by the Black family house-elf Kreacher. The house-elf stood before him with welling eyes. Regulus had always been fond of him, more so really than his status allowed. Regulus despised the way that people treated Kreacher. As Regulus saw the tears forming in Kreacher’s eyes he felt an urge to do something. Wordlessly and soundlessly Regulus dropped to one knee and extended his arms to Kreacher. Reluctantly Kreacher moved forward into his arms and as Regulus closed them around the elf Kreacher began to sob in Regulus’s arms. It was a silent and dignified sob, but tears shed down the back of Regulus’s cloak nonetheless. After a moment the two broke apart and collected themselves. Regulus straightening up and Kreacher reaching for Regulus’s bags to bring them upstairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Hans instructed me to inform you that Miss Cissy and Miss Bella will be coming by at 5 o’clock this evening.” Kreacher said to Regulus in a regained calm tone. Regulus sighed as he looked at his watch. Only an hour until he would be expected to be social. Regulus carried on to the drawing-room to make sure that all of the defensive spells had subsided since his father’s death. Performing a quick exposure spell all seemed to be in order. Regulus performed this spell in every room in the house just to be sure. He stopped before one particular door. Upon the nameplate scratched out was the remains of what once said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sirius Orion Black. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Regulus ran his fingers over the harsh edges his mother had carved with a knife in an attempt to remove the words. He never knew why she didn’t just use magic to remove them. Maybe it was more symbolic than principal. He opened the door to his brother’s room to find it untouched. The posters still hung all over the walls and the Gryffindor banners were draped over the poster bed. His brother had been so proud to be a Gryffindor. Proud to be different. Regulus could not find pride in being an outsider, a castaway. Regulus performed the spell and left, locking the door behind him. The last room to conquer was his father’s study. Regulus could feel a disturbance as soon as he put his hand on the door handle. It felt dark, it felt foreign. He gripped his wand tighter in his hand and opened the door slowly. As Regulus walked into the room he was met with the sight of his father. His very transparent and very dead father. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Regulus my boy, I was hoping I would not have to hold this form for long. I am not here to stay, I just wanted to speak with you, quickly. This could be left in no letter. The reason the ministry raided the house was that they were tipped off about my dealings with The Scotsman. You will find everything you need to know in my desk. Commit it to memory and burn it. Tell no one.” At this final declaration, the ghost of Orion Black faded out of existence. Regulus let out a shaky breath he did not know he had been holding. Moving almost as if by command he approached his father's desk. Among the contents of the drawer was his father’s blade and various letters from associates. Regulus spotted a deep red ledger which he knew held the details of his father's more illegal dealings. Opening it Regulus found several letters between his father with the code name “The Englishman” and “The Scotsman”. Regulus snorted, how creative. It appeared that the two had been arranging to exchange something in one week's time. Something that his father was paying for, handsomely. Of course, the details were sparse considering it was all incredibly illegal. Regulus found it such a shame to burn the ledger but he committed the time and place to memory. Along with the coded signal that he wasn’t followed. Regulus wasn’t quite sure how he would carry out his father’s wishes, or even if he would. Kreacher appeared outside the door of the study with a faint ‘pop’, Kreacher knew not to enter Orion’s study unless asked. Regulus motioned Kreacher in but the house-elf did not move. Kreacher looked to Regulus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The room has been screaming since last night. Only when Master Regulus arrived did it stop.” Kreacher looked past the doorframe to find no one there but Regulus. “Miss Cissy and Miss Bella are here,” Kreacher paused, “early.” Regulus let out a sigh. This must have been Bella’s doing. Narcissa would never be anything but punctual even for her own funeral. Regulus set the ledger down into the fireplace in the corner of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will be down in a moment Kreacher, please make sure they are comfortable.” Regulus raised his wand towards the fireplace as the house-elf bowed and disappeared with a second ‘pop’. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Incendio”. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Flames drawled out of Regulus’s wand into the fireplace, consuming the ledger. The last of his father’s wishes, reduced to ash. Regulus stood for a moment watching the ledger burn. Watching the fire consume the cover he decided watching would not change anything, with a sigh he dusted off his pants and ventured downstairs. Locking the office behind him he heard the shrill tones of his cousin Bellatrix. God her voice could cut through walls and skulls. Regulus carried on down the stairs to find both Narcissa and Bellatrix in the sitting room. Narcissa greeted him with a hug.    </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Reggie, I’m so sorry to hear about Uncle Orion. Bella and I just wanted to stop by to make sure you had everything handled. I know the solicitor came to collect you from school but we just wanted to make sure.” At the words “we” Bellatrix stood a little straighter and looked as if someone had whispered something in her ear. Bellatrix made a show of coming over to give Regulus a hug as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes Regulus we were all very concerned with how things were going over here. We of course wanted to make sure you were alright and that no, unwelcome visitors were coming to call.” Bellatrix looked over to the mantle which once held portraits of both Sirius and Regulus. Now, there was nothing. Bellatrix despised Sirius, anyone and everyone knew it. Some say it began when Sirius turned her hair bright neon green in front of her soon to be husband Rodolphus in Sirius’s first year. Most Black women were married when they left Hogwarts, it was a matter of great importance. Most of them were even promised to another from birth or early childhood. Narcissa for example was an exception to that rule. While she was promised to another Lucius Malfoy was a far wealthier and more hospitable match. Regulus had been promised to a girl from Beauxbatons but once the war began her father paid Orion a sum of money to break the contract. No one had consulted Regulus on the matter but he didn’t particularly care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no one’s come by. Thank you for checking on me.” Regulus poured himself a glass of water, he genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he had a drink of water. Probably breakfast the day before. Regulus hated this, small talk. He wished it was appropriate to ask the two of them to leave but his ingrained manners got the best of him. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” He honestly hoped they would say no. He knew they were family and only wanted the best for him but he was exhausted. And now he had an illegal buy off to contend with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We would love to but we have a meeting to attend to. We’ll attend the funeral and anything after. I know this seems inconsequential but do you have any idea of who you’ll be asking to attend?” Narcissa, of course, always the strategist and planner. Of course, it was important who Regulus invited to the funeral. Everything in his life became political. Who his friends were, who he spoke to or even looked at, and now, how his father was to die. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will send a notice by owl post. I think I am going to keep it small, just family.” Regulus knew this would stir some unpleasant people the wrong way but who were they to tell him how to grieve. If it was up to Regulus, there would be no funeral, no fanfare. Just to go back to Hogwarts and move on. He didn’t have Sirius here to cause a stir so what was the point? He almost missed how his brother would rile up any Black family gathering. Now the attention was all on Regulus, and he hated it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Narcissa pursed her lips, “I’m sure everyone will understand.” Regulus could see the lie splay across her face. Narcissa was in fact, very good at lying. Just not to Regulus. Not many people were, it was a consequence of a quiet youth. Regulus would notice slight changes, the hue of a potion or the eyes of a student caught out of bounds at night.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you should invite anyone who’s anyone. Why keep it a small affair, cousin of mine. The whole world would be at your beck and call for a few day's time. It would be a good opportunity to see people.” And then there was Bellatrix, always the show. Nothing she did was simple, Regulus was not even sure that the word was in her vocabulary. Of course, she would want to make a family affair into a Death Eater meeting. The last thing Regulus needed was for a bunch of lunatics breathing down his neck. Bellatrix always attracted the strange. Werewolves who suddenly wanted to fight alongside her and people who would steal any manner of object from this house to make a quick Galleon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll consider it for the reception. My father wished to be buried in the Black family tomb. You are welcome to bring your respective spouses but at the very least let me keep that a family affair.” Regulus knew he was caving, it was in his nature to please. But he also knew that keeping everyone happy kept people alive. Bella and the others like her were dangerous when angry. Regulus appreciated that Narcissa and Lucius always kept a level of decorum and class.     </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you Regulus, shall I let the people at the meeting know of the arrangements?” Narcissa toed the line very well between considerate and overstepping boundaries. It was all carefully curated. If she were to announce the gathering at the meeting she would be seen as a gracious member of the House of Black and would remain in fair favor. If she merely showed up with an “I don’t know”, that would not satisfy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You may, here I have all the dates and the apparition point for the cemetery here for the two of you. Everyone will be welcome back here.” Once again Regulus caved. It was not in his nature to resist his family. He had been taught that at severe consequence. He still remembered what happened the last time a Black brother disobeyed. It was, of course, the last time anyone disobeyed in the house. He remembered how the air seemed to leave his father's office and all signs of light had dimmed. How Sirius laid on the ground writhing in pain from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Crucio </span>
  </em>
  <span>his mother cast. Regulus remembered his father holding his hair back and making him watch. Not letting his gaze leave Sirius. Bloodied and bruised Sirius who cried for Regulus and James and Remus and Peter and Lily and then Death. Regulus remembered the words his father whispered in his ear as Walburga stood over Sirius. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Remember this Regulus. This is what happens to those who do not obey.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>There had never been another moment in Regulus’s life where he so heavily considered leaving with Sirius into the fireplace to the Potter’s. But Regulus knew his place was in the House of Black. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Reggie, and do let us know if you need anything.” Narcissa and Bellatrix gave Regulus one last hug and were shown out by Kreacher. Regulus sunk down into the love seat in the drawing-room. He felt like he couldn’t breathe like the world was caving in on to his chest. There was no air in the house, everything was stiff. Regulus made a dash for the door at the end of the kitchen. Stumbling and tripping along the way over chairs and corners of tables. Regulus felt like he couldn’t catch his breath like someone had placed a bubblehead charm wrong and he was being robbed of air instead of providing it. Out of the kitchen door, Regulus found himself in the garden.  It had become overgrown since Sirius had left. It was his pet project, whenever he could not hide in the house he would hide in the garden. Among the wildlife, Sirius would say to Regulus, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Where I belong.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Regulus always assumed Sirius had been speaking metaphorically, that was until he met Remus Lupin. Regulus found out some time ago about his brother and Moon Moon McWerewolf. It was almost as unfortunate as Sirius and Regulus’s own names. He did not suspect that many people knew Remus Lupin was a werewolf but Regulus began to put things together after Sirius’s fourth year when he would randomly disappear from the castle and then during the summers as well. He occasionally thought about using this information for his own ends but he knew better. He didn’t need Sirius and his entire group of friends let alone every professor and the headmaster coming after him for this information. Regulus had always played his cards close to his chest. So few knew of Regulus’s mind, they only knew what he wanted them to know. As Regulus reflected he realized he could suddenly breathe again. Air filling his lungs. He walked around the garden and marveled at whatever plants had remained alive, which ones had taken over, and which ones had shriveled. The garden had been a thing of beauty before Sirius left, manicured by hand and nurtured without magic, the blooms in the spring had been incredible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Master Regulus, would you care for some dinner?” Kreacher called from the threshold of the door. Regulus knew he must eat, it was seen as improper for the host of funerals to eat for some reason. He learned that when his mother died. All around him, people enjoyed themselves at her final expense and he was expected to stand stoically or simply walk between conversations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes Kreacher, would you mind making some soup with a toastie?” He knew it was a childish meal but after all, Regulus was still a child. Now an orphaned one, but a child nonetheless. </span>
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  <span>“Of course Master Regulus.” Kreacher replied walking away towards the kitchen leaving the door open for Regulus to return to the house.  </span>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Funeral</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The funeral of Orion Black brings back memories Regulus didn't expect</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: Very small cut and blood mention marked by *** bolded. Let me know if there is a better marking system for the future. I know it's a little bit shorter than normal but I really wanted to get it out.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Regulus slept fitfully that night. He was plagued by memories he had tried to forget. They were varied and scattered, little bits of childhood, even bigger bits of his early teen years, and vivid replays of the last year and a half. Regulus watched from a birds-eye view as his brother abandoned him for a better brother, he watched as his mother died cursing out his name, he watched as his friends and family pledged to both kill and die for the Dark Lord. All Regulus could do was watch. How different was it really from his own life now? How had he changed as a man? Was he any better now, just watching his life run before him? Bella and Cissy making political moves around his father’s death? Watching his own friends plan attacks without him? Watching as his own family hunted his brother like a wild animal? What was Regulus’s part in all of this? He was Orion and Walburga’s son, the last heir to the Black family. Even that was a lie. What was Regulus if not for the people who came before him, the ones who dictated his life with mere suggestion? What did he have to show for all of this silence he had adopted? Fewer scars on his back than his brother, less time at the end of wandpoint? Was that all he had? An “easier” life? Regulus knew there was nothing else in this world for him other than following his cousins into battle over Tom Riddle. Who for all accounts everyone believed was the greatest threat to the wizarding world. Regulus knew who he was, he wasn’t about to join a death sentence without knowing who he was dying for. Hogwarts had an impressive collection of ever-growing books of lineage. Tom Marvolo Riddle, born out of wedlock via a love potion to a muggle woman. Regulus, like with so many other secrets, kept this to himself. Where else would this information get him than the grave?</p><p>“Master Regulus, it’s time to get ready.” Kreacher called from beyond his door. Regulus groaned. He had stayed up late that night debating owl invitations, in the end just inviting anyone and living with the consequences. On top of his night crossing names off lists and remembering relations Regulus had some of the worst sleep of his life. And now the dancing was to begin.</p><p>“Thank you Kreacher, I’ll be alright for myself this morning, work on the arrangements for this evening, please. Take whatever money you need and head to the house-elf market.”</p><p>“As you wish Master Regulus.” Regulus heard the pop of Kreacher’s disapparation and resigned himself to getting up. Not feeling very hungry Regulus silently dressed. The house was so quiet without anyone in it anymore. The portraits were all still asleep by his estimates. Regulus had always been thankful for silence, now, he was not so sure. Once he was in his best dress robes Regulus made his way downstairs. His footsteps were light enough not to wake the portraits thankfully. There was a faint sound of an owl tapping at the window.</p><p>“Oh, who is it now?” Regulus sighed. He had received a flurry of urgent owls from those he sent the invitations too wishing their condolences and acknowledging their attendance at the reception. Regulus didn’t recognize this owl, it was a small brown thing. Clipping the letter from its leg, Regulus handed the owl a small biscuit from the windowsill for which it chirped happily. Regulus opened the small letter which read, <em>Dungeon, 1 am, come alone</em>. Regulus inhaled sharply and shooed the owl away. Sirius. His brother was too bold to send a Patronus or a floo message. He had the nerve to send an owl here. Regulus threw the letter into the lit fire as he entered the drawing-room.</p><p>It wasn’t long before Narcissa, Lucius, Bellatrix, and Rodolphus arrived at Grimmauld Place. They all seemed unnervingly normal, the same as they were any day, just wearing nice dress robes.</p><p>“Regulus.” Lucius stuck out a cool hand. He always seemed very put together to Regulus but recently Regulus had noticed little imperfections in the way he carried himself. Lucius for all his composure has a quick temper and a vile tongue. When he was younger Regulus had liked Lucius, he always appeared to be the perfect Slytherin and perfect husband to Narcissa. As the years had gone on and Regulus began to become more familiar with Lucius he was privy to the vile things he would say about his cousin when he was a little sloppy after a meeting. The Malfoys had allowed Riddle to use their lavish home as a base for meetings. It was a great opportunity for him to brag in a room full of people he really had nothing to prove to.</p><p>“Lucius.” Regulus returned the handshake with a nod. He led the small party to his father's study where they would take the Floo Network to the cemetery. They all collected their powder, Regulus stepped into the fireplace first.</p><p>“Abbey of Saint-Denis, France.” Regulus threw the powder down into a hail of green smoke. The smell brought back such a distinct memory. He had been shoved out of his father's study, catching one last glimpse of Sirius lying on the floor calling out for him. His voice becoming hoarse as he shouted out. Regulus was making his way down the hall when he heard muddled shouting between his mother and father. Most likely his mother threatening to take him out of Hogwarts and keep him at Grimmauld Place forever with his father reminding her that they have a reputation to uphold. Everything after that happened quickly, Regulus turned and saw a flash of green erupt from his father's study. He thought they did it. He thought they killed Sirius. He ran down the hall and burst open the door only to find his mother screaming at the fireplace.</p><p>“You ungrateful piece of shit. How dare you run to those blood traitors!” Regulus realized what had happened. In their confusion and shouting, Sirius had used the Floo Network to get to James Potter. James’s mother, Euphemia, would surely take Sirius in as one of her own. Regulus had seen her a couple of times at the platform. Arms full of love and oftentimes tins of homemade Indian sweets and pastries for James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter. Regulus had always envied the love Sirius had received from his friend's parents. In his first and second years, Regulus found it humiliating that Sirus seemingly had two mothers, their own and Potter’s. But as Regulus grew older he came to understand why Sirius did what he did. Regulus never let his mind wander to the place of potentials. There was far too much danger in dreaming of things that could never be.</p><p>Regulus landed with a soft <em>thud</em> on the cool ground. Yep, he still hated France. The Black family lines of ye old times had insisted the burials of all Black heirs to be in the Abbey of Saint-Denis, because of a single member of the Black family who married a lord from wherever in sixteen-god knows when. Of course, anyone who had been blasted off the tree has no rights in the eyes of the ancestors to be buried here. Regulus chucked, as if Andromeda and Sirius would ever want to be buried in France. Regulus stood in the funeral parlor and waited for everyone else to arrive.</p><p>“Master, your cloak please.” A small house-elf appeared beside him. Regulus smiled politely and thanked her for taking his cloak. The rest of his party arrived minutes after. Regulus led them all to the black family tomb after they left their cloaks inside. The tomb was admittedly impressive, grand columns of marble held up the structure. It would magically expand if a member of the Black family died. Even if they were not buried there, they always had a place. There was normally a priest at this sort of thing but organized religion hadn’t exactly made its way into the favor of the wizarding world. Waiting beside his father's body was the ministry official here to oversee everything.</p><p>“Regulus Black I presume?” Regulus was sure that this was the newest official who drew the short wand from the lot to be here. Regulus figured no one wanted to be a witness and stay with the family of someone who they killed.</p><p>“Yes, thank you for coming.” Regulus knew that he legally had to be here but the gesture did seem to relax the man. Regulus looked over to Bella and Rodolphus who looked bored out of their minds and Cissy and Lucius who just looked plain uncomfortable. Regulus cleared his throat and the man understood.</p><p>“Now I will read the will of the deceased, Orion Black, before the witness of the Ministry of Magic and his sole listed heir, Regulus Arcturus Black,” the ministry wizard cleared his throat, “I leave all properties in my possession to my son and sole heir Regulus Arcturus Black as well as the rights to the Black family call to arms. If I am to die before I can bestow the blood oath to my son I ask that, oh.” The ministry official stopped speaking and leaned over to Regulus. “Sir I am afraid I cannot legally carry out this portion of the will, it is old blood magic that they have outlawed I…” Regulus raised his hand and motioned for him to carry on. Regulus knew about the blood magic, of course, it was what protected the house after Orion had died. He would just have to deal with that later. “Right, yes. I ask that my blood oath be transferred to my heir. Finally, I ask that my wand be snapped and buried with me. Finally, <em>Toujours Pur.</em>” The wizard folded up the ministry’s copy of the will. “Well that is all for me, I am sorry for your loss.” With a swift step, the ministry wizard left the tomb and disapparated away outside.<strong> ***</strong> Regulus stood beside his father's body. Taking his wand out of his folded arms he snapped it in half. Taking a broken shard and cutting open his father's palm. Reciting the spell for the blood ritual Regulus cut his own hand and placed it with his fathers. There was a soft glow and the cuts healed.<strong> ***</strong></p><p>“Well, that was pleasant. We’ll wait for you back at Grimmauld Place Reg.” Narcissa patted his shoulder as she led the rest of the party away. Regulus stood beside his father quietly. What was he to say. Goodbye? Regulus had done that on the platform before he boarded the train to Hogwarts. Regulus placed the shards of wand in between his father's crossed arms. Regulus lifted his father's body into his niche, sealing the plaque. Giving one last breath he left the tomb, closing the large marble door behind him. Regulus returned to the parlor to find the house-elf waiting there with his cloak.</p><p>“Thank you,” Regulus whispered as he slipped it on and grabbed the floo powder. “Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, London, England.” Regulus threw down the powder into another green bang.</p><p>Regulus stumbled out into his father's study to find that he was not alone. Sat in his father's chair was Tom Riddle.</p><p>“Hello Regulus.”</p>
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